


House of Glass

by sunaddicted



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2k18 [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hangover, Heavy Drinking, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: [...]now Oswald understood why his mother used to tell him what a bad thing it was, falling in love with a good liar.You couldn't help starting to believe them.(EPILOGUE ADDED ON 12/04/18)





	1. Chapter 1

_~~~~House of Glass_

“I've heard you're looking for me”

 _Crash_.

Oswald turned around on his heels to briefly glare at the man who had let himself in his office without any kind of warning, hand slowly clenching closed around the emptiness where once a rather expensive glass of wine had been - red wine that was slowly seeping into the carpet and irreparably staining it “How many times did I tell you not to do that?”

Edward rolled his eyes at the hissed question and sprawled on one of the visitors chairs, grimacing at the way his long limbs were forced into an uncomfortable position; he didn't know it for sure, but Edward suspected that the Penguin had intentionally furnished his office with the most beautiful and cramped chairs he could find in order to cut his meetings short “So jumpy" 

“I'm not jumpy!” 

Edward just arched an eyebrow in response. 

Oswald huffed and raked one hand through his hair in a rather uncharacteristic nervous gesture “Alright, maybe I am a little jumpy”

“And I assume the reason why also has to do with the fact that you've had your men combing my hideouts for days" Edward's eyes narrowed “I dislike being chased all around the city” he reminded the other man, voice low and threatening: they might have agreed on a truce once they had both realised that neither of them truly wanted to kill the other, but that didn't make them friends - the Penguin was going to pay for any service he requested, like any other criminal in town.

And the Riddler was everything but cheap - quite the opposite, in fact.  

“I need a favour”

“I gathered as much”

Oswald sighed heavily at the belligerent tone in Edward's voice and sat down behind his desk, fingers briefly going to his temples in order to try and get rid of the painful tension he could slowly feel pooling there “Must you always be so obnoxious?” 

“Do you really want to antagonize the man you need a favour from?" 

Damn, but Edward was right - as always, much to Oswald's chagrin: if there was something he loathed, it was being wrong and having his face rubbed in it. He retrieved a thick envelope from the tower of paperwork, balanced on the corner of his desk, and tossed it at Edward so that the other man could have a look at its contents; he was sure that once Edward read the documents in it, he wouldn't have much explaining left to do.

Oswald still couldn't believe that someone had had the guts to actually pull his records and had the brilliant idea of sending him a deportation order.  

To the goddamned kingpin of Gotham's underworld.

To the Penguin.  

“I knew your mother was an immigrant, but I thought you were born here" Edward hummed, putting the papers down so that he could focus on Oswald “I fail to understand why this has you so shaken: you're a criminal, resisting deportation can hardly make your record look worse than it already is"

It was times like those that Oswald wondered how it was possible for someone as clever as Edward, who took every chance he could to remind everyone about how smart he was, could also be such an obtuse person; it was a question that tormented him, especially when he had had a little too much to drink and there wasn't enough work for him to focus on and keep the morose thoughts at bay.  Oswald took a deep breath and laced his fingers together to keep them in check in case the temptation to hit Edward overcame him: it wasn't such a rare impulse for him to feel around the other and his mother had taught him that prevention was better than the cure “In case you have forgotten, I have plenty of legal businesses too”

Edward shrugged “Well, you've been balancing on the edge of the knife long enough: time to come and live in the dark like the rest of us"

Oswald gritted his teeth: God, but Edward made it so hard sometimes “My unique ability to operate in the grey zone between law and crime is the reason why you and the rest of the Rogues have plenty of benefits, such as actually qualified doctors and lawyers who don't turn on you just because of who you are"

And that wasn't something Edward could call out as a lie, considering that just the week before he had had a very good surgeon extract a bullet from his calf and had even stitched him up rather decently - not that he particularly cared about scars, but still “Do you want me to forge you papers, then?” Oswald certainly had people in his employ who were better qualified for the job, but maybe he was just trying to keep the situation under wraps - typical Penguin behaviour.

“It's a little late for that, isn't it?”

Well, yes. But Oswald had money: how much would it cost to buy a couple of immigration officials “I must admit that I'm out of ideas” Edward answered with a grimace, disliking even the thought of having to admit that he couldn't see the solution to a puzzle: was he really growing that slow and old? He had never liked not having answers but since his brief stint as a stupid person, almost a decade prior when he had been freed from the prison of ice Oswald had put him into, Edward had become even more sensitive and easily irritable whenever his brain stuttered - especially when just simple reasoning was required: after all, Oswald must already have had a proposal if he had called him there.

Why couldn't he see the answer too?

“Marry me"

Edward blinked slowly as the two words sank in his brain “Marry you?”

“You're American, aren't you?” Oswald snapped “I don't like this idea better than you do but after I get American citizenship through our marriage, we'll divorce as soon as it stops being suspicious”

“Why me?” Edward raised a finger to briefly stop Oswald from answering “I mean, despite our truce, everyone knows we're enemies: I tried to kill you countless times, you froze me and put me on display in the middle of your club - nobody would fall for the charade” there, he had found a fallacy in Oswald's plan.

Crisis averted.  

“Nobody else knows me like you do, Edward - and these people ask loads of questions” Oswald pointed out “And we have history: for us to shack up and tie the knot wouldn't be too weird, especially considered Gotham's standards” stranger things had happened: the Penguin and the Riddler getting married after a decade of enmity wouldn't even make the top ten “Look, I'd love to ask anyone else but I can't afford this going wrong, Edward - for my sake and for yours too" there was a reason why the Rogues had stopped challenging his position of power and it was that having the Penguin on the throne was more convenient for everyone involved.  

Edward grimaced as he tried to keep his breathing under control: Oswald had just put him in a rather difficult position and his choice could possibly endanger those few friends he had; the Rogues were the closest thing he had ever had to a family and the man in front of him knew that and he had no qualms about using that piece of knowledge against him.  Edward had never had the pleasure of playing chess against Oswald but if the other man was as ruthless on the board as he was when it came to moving people around and manipulating them into doing his bidding, Edward wasn't so sure he would win “It still is quite the risky plan" he observed, biding for time “Can we pull such a thing off?”

Part of Oswald - a rather bitter one, admittedly - wanted to remind Edward that he had no problems lying through his teeth without Oswald suspecting a thing, while the other man was planning his downfall. Instead, Oswald took a deep breath - he felt like he had been going that a lot lately - and squared his shoulders “We're both known for our cunning: we can persuade some government official that our marriage is genuine" 

Plus, if he had to be honest, Oswald had already gathered the necessary paperwork and started filling it in: he had long given up on ever finding someone who would love him enough to stay by his side for the rest of their lives; if he had to enter the sham of a marriage to avoid being kicked out of his home, he wanted the other person to be someone he respected at least.

The fact that his heart still ached for Edward even after all those years and the ugly words between them, well… it was a problem that Oswald had been dealing with for the last decade: how much worse than that could it get?

Edward's silence had started to grow a little too long for Oswald's tastes and his stomach felt heavy, as if his guts had tangled themselves into a knot that nothing short of a well-sharpened knife could undo: was Edward really so repulsed by the thought of being his husband for a set amount of time, that he would endanger his friends’ lives?

It hurt, but Oswald was used to soldering through pain “I know it's a lot to ask for” he started, lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled over the best words to use to reach the other man and establish a connection with him; once upon a time, it had been so easy - they had been able to talk to one another with just their eyes, their bond so strong that Oswald believed it would last through the hardest and most testing situations.

How wrong he had been.  

How foolish.  

How hopelessly in love.  

Oswald swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to dislodge it so that he wouldn't sound too choked up when he started speaking again; it didn't help - if anything, his esophagus felt even more closed up than before - and Oswald rubbed the skin over his upper lip in an attempt at appearing like he was busy thinking, rather than suffocating on air.   

“I'll do it”

And just like that, the lump dissolved “Thank you.  Of course, I'll reward you handsomely: whatever you ask, it's yours”

“I'll hold you to that”

 Oswald nodded “I expect nothing less: I'm not a charity case, this is a business transaction” 

Put it like that, it sounded better than thinking about the whole ordeal in more practical terms. Edward slumped against the back of the chair, one hand hovering over his lips as if to hold a scream in: they were getting married “I'll have a glass of what you're having” he murmured when Oswald shuffled away from the desk.

_God, they were getting married._

* * *

“Show us the ring again!” Echo prodded Edward in the side, her sharp nails creasing his carefully pressed suit; Oswald hadn't been able to persuade him to shed his signature neon green for their engagement party - obviously held at the Lounge because every noteworthy celebration in town was held there and because Oswald wasn't losing a chance to capitalise on the occasion: events meant more customers, after all - but Edward had agreed on wearing a fairly plain suit with no sequins in sight.  

Edward sighed “You've seen it a hundred times”

Query grinned “Yes, but they haven't!” she pointed out, backed by murmurs of agreement.  

Edward caught Jon nodding, half-hidden behind Harley and he glared at him: the traitor was supposed to help him get the girls interested in something else, not to side with them.

“Come on, don't make us beg!”

Resigned, Edward worked the purple glove off of his hand; maybe, if he let them fawn over the ring, they would all revert to their normal selves for the rest of the night.  Besides, if the paparazzi got a nice shot of the emerald shining as bright as a small star on his finger, it would only help them to sell the story to the immigration official they were scheduled to have an interview with in a few days.

Even if it seemed that their story was completely believable; not one of the Rogues had questioned the engagement and they had all seemed genuinely happy for them; the gossiping rags - only in Gotham villains were stalked just as much as celebrities - had started sprouting theories about where the wedding would take place, who would be on the guest list, what colour scheme would they have; even Gotham's resident Flying Rat had congratulated the Riddler before throwing a batarang at him.  

Edward didn't know why he felt so unsettled.

If Oswald was as bothered by the news’ reception, he didn't show it.

He looked up, eyes searching for the Penguin - whether to just check on what he was doing or to silently order him over so that he could he saved from the ecstatic comments on his ring, he didn't know.

Oswald was standing by the bar, a glass of wine in hand while he talked something important - or so Edward deduced from the deep creases marring Oswald's forehead - with Victor Fries; watching him stand there, dressed to the nines, it was easy for Edward to imagine how Oswald would look on their wedding day and the feeling of discomfort deepened “Excuse me but it looks like someone is breaking the ‘no business talk at the engagement party’ rule” Edward lied smoothly as he stood up.

“Go and straighten him up” Echo cheered, promptly sliding into what had been his seat just a second before Query sprawled in her lap - which was his cue to hightail as far as possible from the duo: PDA had always made him uncomfortable, but Query and Echo bordered on the obscene and Edward wanted to be able to look at them in the face for the foreseeable future.  

Edward shook his head, trying to get rid of the images that had gotten stuck in there every time he had accidentally stumbled on them getting it on, and walked up next to Oswald; he wasn't proud of the way he half-hid behind his fiancè but even after all those years, he didn't like being too close to Fries and his freezing gun “Oswald, dear, can I borrow you for a moment?”

 _Dear_.

While cooking up his brilliant plan, Oswald hadn't quite taken in consideration the fact that the other man - his first and only love - would have to engage in some kind of display of affection and since Edward had never been the touchy-feely type, Oswald had completely ignored the issue and promptly forgotten about the fact that the other man certainly could use his words.  Every term of endearment, every nickname, even the different tone of voice Edward had started using when speaking to him while in public - they all felt like daggers in Oswald's heart: it was torture; while a part of him fluttered in happiness, the more realistic one darkened with bitterness “Of course, Ed” he answered, nodding at Fries in a parting gesture “I thought you'd love the attention”

So, Oswald had noticed that he had been growing more uncomfortable at every passing minute “Not that kind of attention” Edward answered, sighing in relief when Oswald led them to his table; they still were in plain sight but nobody would dare to come up to them without the Penguin's explicit invitation “All the fawning and congratulations are starting to get on my nerves”

“It will be over in a few weeks” Oswald offered in a comforting manner “After the interview, we'll bribe someone in town hall to marry us as quickly as possible and the hype will fade” Oswald didn't want to think about how it would ramp up again when, after a year or so, they would announce their divorce; they would have to stage something ugly - something that would really convince the Rogues that they were done once and for all.

There had been too little questions asked for Oswald's tastes too and he bristled at the thought that everyone knew he had been in love with Edward the whole time; it certainly made him appear weak in their eyes and Oswald worried about whether his position of power was rarely challenged because the Rogues preferred a weak ruler they could manipulate, rather than because they respected him after everything he had done for them.

“You shouldn't frown like that at your own engagement party” Edward quipped, purposefully distracting Oswald from whatever thought that was causing his face to twist in such a scowl “Kingpin of the underworld problems I can help with? For this time, I'll give you a consultation for free” he said with a cheeky grin that prompted Oswald to roll his eyes. 

“The empire is thriving, don't worry: you won't be suddenly married to a pauper”

“Good because, as you most certainly know, I'm high maintenance”

It was in those moments, when the bantering between them flew as lightly as water and Edward looked at him with fondness that Oswald wondered about whether there was… more - or whether Edward was just _that_ good of an actor.

What a hopeless fool he was.  

Edward had made it clear a long time ago how he felt about him.  

_I. Don't. Love. You._

“You're doing it again”

Oswald sighed and forced the clenched facial muscles to relax, trying to coax them into a more pleasant and less sour expression “I'm sorry, it's been a long day" truth to be told, it had been a couple of long weeks but Oswald had soldiered on through the days, stretching himself thin between business meetings, interviews with his lawyer to prepare for the immigration office examination and the GCPD nipping at his heels “I just need a good night of sleep” and several drinks. Oswald was meditating about whether he could get away with asking for a whole bottle of wine without stirring any gossip - it wasn't as if he was being driven to the bottle by Edward: everyone knew he liked drinking a little too much - when Edward's fingers curled around his hand.  

Oswald really hoped that the other man wasn't taking his pulse because his heart was hammering: the last time Edward had touched him, bruises had bloomed in his skin.  

Tentatively, he put his own hand over Edward's and caressed the ring with his thumb. He hadn't told the other man that it had taken him painstakingly long to pick out the perfect design for the band - the yellow gold subtly curled around the stone in a shape reminiscent of a question mark - nor that the emerald came from his father's personal collection.

Edward looked down on their hands clasped together, the ring shining between their fingers - it was so real and it took his breath away, it wasn't some wild hallucination that his brain was playing as a cruel trick on him “I forgot what I wanted to tell you”

Oswald snorted “Once, you told me that it never happened to you. Thoughts flying out of your head”

Edward remembered that conversation - he remembered _all_ of their conversations in detail, had gone over them more times than he cared to admit for reasons that went from trying to find proof that Oswald really had been in love with him to mere melancholy - and had to smile at the memory: things between them had been so simple back then “Middle age must be catching up on me”

“Or you're getting Alzheimer”

Edward rolled his eyes and elbowed Oswald in his side, not taking his hand away.  

_Once, things had been easier._

* * *

“Alright, where was I born?”

Edward pushed his glasses up on his forehead, so that he could rub at his dry and tired eyes “Kecskemèt”

“Your pronunciation sucks” Oswald pointed out.

“How did that happen?” Edward inquired, straightening up from his slouched resting position, glasses falling back on the bridge of his nose “Your mother met your father here, you were conceived in Gotham”

“Oh, that. Well, my father's family paid off my mother to disappear when they discovered she was pregnant: she used the money to go back in Hungary and seek some help from her family, but she was carrying an illegitimate child so, you can imagine how that went” Oswald shrugged; he wasn't hurt by the fact that they had been turned away from his mother's family, but he had been angry on her behalf when he had learnt the whole story “So, once I was born, she came back here”

Edward didn't comment, even if he wanted to believe that family couldn't be that cruel, he knew from first-hand experience that it wasn't quite the truth “Having adventures since infancy” he teased lightly, instead “Alright, how about me?”

“Born and bred a Gothamite” Oswald answered. No matter how easy some of the questions his lawyer had given them, they had decided to practice answering them all anyway: it would only make them seem more comfortable and genuine during the interview and they had only one chance “The next one is hilarious: everybody knows where we met the first time”

“Well, not literally everybody but anyone who was at the GCPD that day knows” Edward cringed at the memory of how eager he had been to meet the infamous Penguin, stalking him throughout the precinct “I asked you a riddle”

“You ask everyone riddles” Oswald retorted “What I want, the poor have, the rich need and if you eat it you'll die”

“Nothing" Edward grinned “It was an easy one, I still can't believe you didn't guess it: you're far from stupid”

Oswald shrugged “I was too busy wondering about whether you really had followed me around just to ask a riddle”

It was fair, Edward supposed “What's the next question?” if they were all so easy, he was pretty confident that they would breeze through the interview.  

“First date” Oswald hummed, raising his eyes from the paper to look at the other man “We should use something we have done together to avoid crafting a completely new story and risking getting the details mixed up” if there was something he had learnt during his criminal career, it was that good liars always built their tales on the truth.

“What about when we killed Mr Leonard together? Obviously, omitting the killing part” not that anyone would have been too scandalized to hear that they had murdered a man together after sharing dinner “It was the first time we ate together, it should be easy to remember”

Oswald remembered it as if ten years hadn't passed, the rush of taking a life - a roundabout revenge against Galavan, who had killed his mother - and of holding Edward's hand around the knife, the blood making their grip slippery and unsteady as he guided the younger man's thrusts. They had established a connection in that moment; bloodied and exhilarated their souls had touched “That.. that can't work” he shook his head, trying to shake away the goosebumps that the memory had raised over his skin “It's too far in the past, everyone knows about Isabella - at least, the Rogues do. And we tried to kill each other.  

“Right” Edward wasn't proud of himself for barely remembering Isabella; whenever he thought back to that period of his life, it wasn't grief for her death that stood out to him and eclipsed everything else that had happened - it was Oswald's lies; Oswald's betrayal; Oswald's trembling lips as he confessed his love; Oswald's rage; Oswald's blood clouding the filthy water of the harbour; Oswald's cruel eyes as Fries held his gun pointed at him.  

_I want you around as a constant reminder not to make the same mistake again._

He thought about Oswald.

“Maybe we can use as a first date that time you came to the Lounge and we discussed business over that excellent profiteroles"

Edward nodded “Yes, I remember”

The other man had a weird look on his face but Oswald didn't comment on it - it wasn't as if he truly had Edward's confidence - and looked back down on the papers in his hands, trying to find something to distract Edward from what was bothering him “In any case, I don't think we'll have any problems lying if we stick to meetings that have actually happened - it's just a matter of interpretation” he said, somewhat comforting “The questions I'm more worried about are those about our families”

“I know almost everything about yours”

“While I don't know much about yours”

Edward sighed “I don't like talking about them”

From the little facts Oswald knew about Edward's parents, he wasn't surprised to hear those words come out of the other's mouth; Edward had never really been outspoken about it, but reading between the lines it was easy to recognise that Edward hadn't had a happy childhood - nor loving parents “We could always say that to the immigration official. They might appreciate the fact that I respect your privacy in a matter that's clearly very private and they won't question us too much, if we say that you don't want your family to our wedding and that we haven't sent anyone invitations” it was all Oswald could offer him.  

And it made Edward angry - the fact that Oswald still showed him that much respect and consideration.  Why couldn't he had been so mature since the beginning? There was no telling where they would be now, if Oswald had let the events take their course and he hadn't killed Isabella “You know they were abusive”

He knew but it was the first time Edward said it out aloud, explicit and unequivocal “And I don't need to know the details, unless you wish to tell me” Oswald tentatively leaned over, placing his hand over Edward's forearm and squeezing softly - briefly, barely long enough for the other's brain to regist that he had been touched “Just give me the basic info such as their names and the official will have to deal with that”

“Promise me you'll never look for their records”

Oswald nodded and, for some reason, Edward believed him.  

_Trust, what a finicky thing._

* * *

“Do you, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, take Edward Nygma as your husband?”

Oswald had never dared to imagine he would ever hear that question asked to him; his throat, tongue and lips suddenly dried and he could only nod stiffly, tears threatening to stream down his cheeks and ruin his makeup while he gathered the strength to get out those two words - little and quite insignificant on a daily basis, but enormous in that moment.  

Edward looked so beautiful, standing in front of him dressed in a shade of green so dark that it seemed black, shimmering only when the sunshine hit the fabric right - like the plumage of a magpie; they were corvids, which meant that they were smart birds, and like Edward they had a penchant for stealing shiny things: it was a fitting comparison.

Oswald opened his mouth and closed it, looking down at their clasped hands; the audience went ‘aww’ - he would swear he had heard Harley sob something along the lines ‘Pengy is so cute’ - at his display of shyness. Or that's how he hoped his behaviour was being interpreted as, instead of people seeing that he was having a nervous breakdown; at least, it would make a better story than the Penguin getting cold feet at the altar.  

“Oswald?”

The question was offered with a small smile but he could read the subtle warning in the tense dimples at the corners of Edward's mouth - if he didn't answer, Oswald would ruin all the work they had put into selling everyone the story.

The lie that Oswald himself wanted to believe.

But it was so hard, saying yes when he already knew that the illusion would be taken from him too soon - that it would last just long enough to avoid raising any suspicions.

Evidently, Edward didn't share the same problem; the other man looked happy, relaxed, cheerful - like he was really marrying the love of his life. Maybe Edward would have looked like that on his and Isabella’s wedding day, if he hadn't killed her; maybe Oswald would have stood at his best friend's side, heart aching even as he bore witness to their signatures drying one next to the other; maybe they would have laughed together when Isabella threw the bouquet and he caught it, trying to ignore the fact that he wouldn't be the next one to get married because his soul mate had already given himself away.  

“Dear, you're starting to worry me - you're not having second thoughts, are you?”

Nervous giggling - Oswald could tell that the guests were actually concerned that he was thinking about it, about saying no. That only Edward's weak attempt at humour was keeping them from shouting at him to get his act together because that's what he wanted, right? He had been pining after Edward for almost half of his life, for crying out loud - and everyone _and their mothers_ knew it.

“Mr Cobblepot?”

Oswald couldn't breathe and his heart thudded loudly in his temples, he could only stare into Edward's eyes as if only in them he could find his balance: was he having a panic attack? It felt like one. Or maybe it was just a heart attack - was his chest hurting? Yes. No. Maybe.  He didn't fucking know.

“Os?”

Oswald blinked owlishly. When had Edward leaned in and taken his face in his hands? “Yes?”

“Do you want to marry me?”

“Y-yes" Edward's smile brightened and his thumbs stroked over his cheekbones; Oswald couldn't remember the last time he had been touched like that - with tenderness, as if he was something precious “Yes, I do. I do want to take you as my husband”

“Do you, Edward Nygma, want to take Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot as your husband?”

“I do"

The words rang true and crystal clear, no hesitation whatsoever in Edward's voice; now Oswald understood why his mother used to tell him what a bad thing it was, falling in love with a good liar.

_You couldn't help starting to believe them._

* * *

Married life wasn't so strange: they had already lived together for extended periods of time and knew how to make one another's life easier, avoiding doing little things such as rolling the toothpaste tube as it gradually emptied - Edward hated it with a passion, didn't understand why anyone would risk breaking the plastic in such a way and making the toothpaste vulnerable to humidity and germs - or keeping the lights on until late - while Oswald suffered as much as he did from bad bouts of insomnia, he couldn't stand having the lights turned on for too much even if he was awake.  Edward had honestly expected things to be harder but Oswald hadn't even tried to invite him in his bedroom for the sake of their lie; if he was to be honest, it felt lonely.

Oswald had changed so much since the last time they had lived in close proximity.  Edward remembered him as someone who wanted to share, who sought out human contact, who gladly spent hours chatting at the table - there was nothing of that: the other man seemed unable to relax even in his own home, always dressed to the nines even for breakfast; gone were the times he would see Oswald limp around the house in a robe and too big silk pyjamas.

It wasn't something Edward had realised he had expected to see, nor that he would miss it as he looked at his husband tiredly pour over various documents. Oswald rarely did anything else, it seemed: he worked, all the time.  When he wasn't working, he was eating. When he wasn't eating, he was sleeping. On and on it went in a rather depressing cycle.

Edward had imagined that someone as important as Oswald would have visitors every day but he led a remarkably lonely life. He didn't even have a pet to turn to for comfort and it looked like he needed it most days than not - it only made Edward feel more in awe of the other man: how much work did Oswald put into presenting himself to the world as someone bubbly and confident, exuberantly happy? He seemed to be the complete opposite behind the privacy of the walls of his home.

He wouldn't have worried, hadn't he known that Oswald used to be different.  And yes, Edward was conveniently ignoring the fact that after just three months of living together he was back to worrying about the other man - the real issue was Oswald's seemingly depressed mood; it wasn't a description he used lightly but Edward found it to be rather accurate as he mentally took note of all of the signs, listing them neatly in his head.

Not that anyone would have believed him, even if he had the proofs: in the collective imagination, Oswald spent his days lounging around while drinking and laughing with his cohorts, not stretching himself thin over work.

“Is there something wrong with your breakfast?”

Edward offered a quizzical hum, perplexed by the other's question “No, why?”

“You're staring at me” Oswald pointed out, flicking another page of the newspaper open “You actually stare most mornings. At this point, I'm assuming there's something wrong with your breakfast and you're trying to think about how to speak up”

“I would tell the kitchen staff if there was something wrong with my food”

“I'm glad that you know you can do that” Oswald sighed as he raised his eyes from the printed words “What's the problem, then? Don't say you're staring at me because I'm too beautiful, that's a very Jim Gordon move”

Edward frowned “When did Jim call too beautiful?”

Well, the joke had spectacularly backfired on him. Oswald knew he wasn't much to look at, that the other man could have been doing so much better; he had just wanted to erase that concerned expression from the other man's face, not to get a compliment out of it “Of course he never did, don't be ridiculous” he rolled his eyes “So?”

Edward shrugged: he couldn't tell Oswald that he was worrying about him, could he? “It's strange, being like this with you”

“I know” Oswald nodded, a resigned sigh escaping his lips and which he hoped the other man would just read as tiredness “I know, it's strange for me too”

_Like a dream come true._

* * *

Oswald pursed his lips as he prodded at the candle stuck in a muffin, trying to make it stand tall before he lit it up and brought it to Edward; of course he hadn't forgotten about the other man's birthday but he had spent so much time agonising over whether he should acknowledge it or not - he never had, not once in the past ten years - that the day had come and he didn't have cake or a present.

He sighed and loaded the muffin on the tray, together with a steaming cup of tea fixed to the other's tastes and a small package wrapped in paper that was a positively obnoxious shade of green; it wasn't much and he honestly doubted that Edward would even appreciate it - it wasn't as if things had actually changed.

As if they actually were in a relationship.  

Going to sleep alone every night was a painful reminder of that - it was almost even worse than waking up to cold sheets: at least, in that case, Oswald could have fooled himself into believing that Edward had already woken up. Instead, he came home in the witching hour to find just emptiness welcoming him; it was suffocating, sometimes the loneliness was so crushing that he couldn't even go to sleep and he wandered the house, trying to occupy the time until dawn with something productive.

He slowly climbed up the stairs, keeping the tray balanced even as he fought with his trembling leg, grimacing in pain at every step - it wasn't a good day, the air was filled with humidity and his damaged joints protested very loudly; maybe, bringing Edward breakfast in bed hadn't been one of his brightest ideas: he still was debating over it, despite the fact that he already hadn't slept a wink that night in order to weight down the pros and cons of doing such a thing.  

It really would seem like he was trying too hard, wouldn't it? Edward would read right through him, see what swam in the depths of his heart - Oswald wasn't unsure about how he would react, though.

Would he laugh in mocking at him?

Would he offer a pitiful smile?

Would he be repulsed?

Oswald wasn't ready to face any of those reactions. He bent down and carefully put the tray in front of the door, far enough that Edward wouldn't knock it over when he opened it, before he looked at his watch: it wouldn't be long before Edward woke up, he'd always been an early riser - maybe the candle would still be alight by the time the other man got up.

Did Edward even make a wish? Probably not; it seemed as something that the other man would deem too childish.

_Still - he had believed in fate once, hadn't he?_

* * *

“So, married life”

Edward eyed Query warily from behind the rim of his cup, his eyes following her as she hopped on the kitchen table; it was a rickety old thing and it trembled under her weight, making him wonder whether that would be the day they would have to cave and change it with something new and more resistant “What about it?”

Echo rolled her eyes “Are you liking it?” she asked as she joined them, legs carelessly thrown in her friend's lap.

“Forgive me if I sound suspicious..”

“The Riddler being suspicious? Why, that's a new one. Give me a second to call the papers and give them this astonishing piece of news”

“The sarcasm is not appreciated, Query” Edward said, glaring at Echo who was giggling as if her partner had just cracked the perfect joke “I just don't see the point of your question - are you two planning on getting married?”  
  
Echo’s giggling bloomed into a full-bellied laugh that made her whole body shake “Oh god, that's hilarious”  
  
“No, we're not planning on getting married: it's a stupid institution and all that rot”  
  
“Rot that you too believed in until a few months ago”

Edward blinked at them, confusion slowly melting away as realisation made through his brain: was it possible that they doubted the authenticity of their marriage? “Don't you think it's a little too late to examine my change of heart towards the matter?” He inquired “I've been married for almost five months”

“Do you want us to be blunt?” Echo sighed and scowled when Edward looked at her with an arched eyebrow, as if to accuse her of always being blunt: they were trying to be delicate, but the other man just wouldn't let them steer the conversation in a slower pace “You look unhappy”

“Stressed”

“Tired”

“Miserable”

Edward raised a finger to shut them up before they could go on with their list “I got the message, thanks” and worry was twisting his guts into knots: were they just being overprotective - they did tend to mother him a little, despite the fact that he was older than them - or did they really look unhappy? “I don't know what you want me to say”

Echo took her legs off of Edward's thighs and tucked them under her body so that she could straighten up a little and convey the message that they were going to have a serious conversation, whether he liked it or not “Tell us what's wrong”

Query nodded “We can't help if we don't know the problem”

“You can't help” the words left his mouth before he could stop them and Edward frowned darkly at his own lack of control; he knew how relentless his friends could be, once they had been given a scrap of information they could sink their nails in and tug until they got the whole story “It's complicated”

“Give us the basics, for starters”

Could he? He trusted them and, well, he did need to talk with someone “Our marriage is a sham" Edward admitted “Oswald needed to get American citizenship and..” He shrugged “I married him”

Well, Echo could safely say that they hadn't imagined anything like that; they had been worried that Edward and Oswald were fighting about what had happened in the past “Wow”

“What the hell, Ed?”

“I know, I know” Edward sighed “You can understand why I was keeping it a secret, obviously”

“That's not why you're upset” Query stated “Do you love him?”

That was ridiculous, wasn't it? And still… “I - I don't know.  I care about him and.. I worry about him” he dug his fingers in his trousers, creasing them “I feel..” things that he had viciously repressed in the wake of Oswald's betrayal; things that he had always been too scared to analyse and understand; things that he had been scared of feeling: he felt like he had used to, before Oswald killed her.

“Look, it's a crappy situation, but you can use it to your advantage” Query pointed out “You already are married to the guy: cosy up to him, test the waters - let yourself try out what it would mean truly being with him”

“What if he doesn't love me anymore?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes?” Edward replied, his eyes following Echo moving around the flat, clearly looking for something. She came back with a thick envelope in her hands and splayed its contents all over the table; suddenly, his own face and Oswald's were staring up at him, crinkled with laughter “I'll have you know, we keep pictures of our wedding day around the house”

Echo rolled her eyes “For your charade, yes” she tapped on the Penguin's face, trying to redirect his friend’s attention to the topic at hand “Do you see it?”

“See what?”

“The face of a man desperately in love, Ed"

Edward arched an eyebrow, sceptical “After all this time?”

“Love doesn't have a ‘best before’ date"

“You just have to go and get him”

_Just?_

* * *

Edward stopped in his tracks when he entered the living room and found his husband sleeping in what seemed to be a rather uncomfortable position, sprawled on the couch with his leg propped up on a pile of throw pillows and one arm dangling from the side “Oswald?” He murmured, making sure not to make any noises that would startle him as he walked up to the couch “Oswald, you need to get in bed. Come on” Edward tried to coax him, gentle hands helping the other man to sit up.  

“‘m tired” Oswald whined, trying and failing to blink his eyes open; he couldn't see why the other man was trying to wake him up: didn't Edward know how little he slept? He needed the rest.

“I know” Oswald's body was heavy and lax, moving it around reminded Edward of that time he had dragged a bleeding out Penguin in his home in order to nurse him back to health “But your back and your neck will thank me when you wake up”

“I don't wanna wake up”

“Put your arms around my neck” Edward encouraged; it was true that in the past decade the other man had put some weight on, but he was fairly confident that he could manage to carry him upstairs.

“Not a princess" Oswald complained but his arms followed the other's order almost out of their own volition and soon enough, he had his face buried in the crook of Edward's neck; his skin smelled so nice - clean, like freshly laundered sheets and shaving foam.

“You're a king, don't worry”

“Do kings get carried to their bedroom?”

“This one does” Edward answered as he briefly struggled with getting Oswald's legs in a position that wouldn't hinder him too much while walking up the stairs “Hold on tight, your majesty” he warned before he straightened up; it took him a minute or so to find his balance and, yes, Oswald weighted more than it seemed but Edward was quite hell-bent on bringing the task to an end - that end preferably being Oswald tucked in bed and not them falling in a heap in the middle of the stairs.

Oswald curled his hands in the soft fabric of Edward's sweater - he must have stayed at home or went to his old hideout to visit Query and Echo because he never went anywhere else without a suit on - and nodded “Did you like the cupcake?”

“The green candle was particularly appreciated” the onslaught of feelings it had caused? Not so much. Before meeting Query and Echo, nobody had acknowledged his birthday - let alone celebrated it; he hadn't expected Oswald to do anything, but the other man had gotten him a cupcake and a present - a pair of cufflinks and a tie pin that seemed to have been designed to be worn in harmony with his engagement ring “It was really sweet of you”

“Did you make a wish?”

“What kind of heathen do you think I am?” Edward chuckled “Of course I did"

“Good” Oswald hummed, unconsciously rubbing his cheek against Edward's neck - covering himself in his calming scent like a needy kitten “My mother always said that, whether you believe in it or not, it's stupid wasting a chance to get lucky” he frowned: had that actually made any sense? “She basically meant you should always make a wish, whenever the occasion presents itself"

“Pascal’s wager”

“What?”

“Pascal argued that we should live as though God exists. If God does not actually exist, we will have only a finite loss; while if he does exist and we believed in him, we stand to receive infinite gains and avoid infinite losses” Edward explained as he balanced on a step of the stairs, gritting his teeth a little when a muscle in his back twitched with pain.  

“But wouldn't God know you believed him only out of selfish reasons and punish you anyway?” Oswald inquired; he definitely wasn't awake enough to have a decent conversation about philosophy - a subject that certainly had been never taught at the state-funded, overcrowded high school he had frequented - but he had missed that kind of conversations with Edward, it made him feel closer to the other man.  

“The Christian God is all about forgiveness”

“So, you're agnostic?”

Edward sighed in relief when he arrived at the top of the stairs “No, I'm an atheist” there were several arguments that went against Pascal’s wager, after all, and he was more inclined to believing them “Can you open the door? My hands are kind of full”

Oswald didn't want to move even an inch but he imagined that Edward's back must have been crying out in pain - he wasn't exactly a feather - so, he leaned over and turned the doorknob, pushing it open. He couldn't remember the last time he had let anyone in his bedroom - let alone Edward; it had been so long and just the knowledge that the other man was walking in his space out of his own volition, it was enough to make his heart beat faster and his head spun with nerves “Thank you”

“Don't mention it” Edward murmured as he lowered Oswald on the bed before he helped him shed some layers; soon enough, Oswald was just in his undershirt and boxers and Edward was tucking him under the covers when the other's hand tentatively squeezed his wrist “Do you need anything else?”

“Can you stay with me?” Oswald was pretty sure he would regret asking that in the morning, but he felt raw - exposed.

Edward licked his lips, uncertain.  Afraid. Well, Query and Echo had suggested him to try right? He couldn't know what he really felt if he didn't open up to it - to the idea that he could be in love with the other man “Alright, give me a second”

_Maybe things could be that simple again._


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated!!!
> 
> Here it is, the promised Epilogue (almost a month later but I didn't want to rush it); I hope you enjoy it as much as you did the first part: I swear that your reception of "House of Glass" completely blew me away. I'm way happier with this second part, the rhythm has that flow that I wasn't able to achieve in the first one, and I really had way too much fun writing it!

_House of Glass: Epilogue_

“Come downstairs”

Edward hadn't lost the nasty habit of entering unbidden wherever he pleased.  

Oswald sighed heavily and raised his head from the accounting books he was envisioning, red ink flying all over the numbers like a spatter of blood under the slashes of the ballpoint pen “It's your party”

Celebrating an heist gone well.

Riding on the falling tide of adrenaline.  

Arkham could wait another day.  

 _Death_ could wait another day.  

“And you're my husband” Edward pointed out, stealing the pen from Oswald's fingers and twirling it before he made it disappear with a flourish - a whispered _tadah_ leaving his grinning mouth “It's been a while since we've been together in public” it hurt, always having to use as an excuse their less than genuine marriage: Edward was starting to doubt that Query and Echo had read Oswald's feelings correctly - he was starting to lose hope that the other man still had any feelings for him.

Wouldn't it be ironic?

Starting to fall _in_ love with someone who had fallen _out_ of love.  

The ultimate checkmate.

“The manor hardly is a public place”

Edward rolled his eyes: Oswald's contrary nature was something he had always enjoyed about the other man, except for when it was directed at him and made interacting with him so much more difficult “It's full of people”

“And?”

“That makes it a public place”

“Fine” Oswald conceded, closing his books before he stood up and locked them in the safe hidden behind the painting of his father, fingers brushing the frame in a fond ritual greeting; he supposed that Edward was right: the Rogues would start to suspect that there was something wrong with them if he didn't show up, even if they knew just how much he worked - that excuse wouldn't carry him too far. It just… hurt too much, being so close to Edward - holding him felt like grabbing at a puff of smoke, only the ghost of a scent staying trapped in the fibres of his clothes “Lead the way”

Edward took the proffered arm but, instead of entwining it to his own, he tangled their fingers together and their rings clinked merrily as they gently clashed - gold, emeralds, diamonds and platinum creating a brief melody of their own “You needed a break, anyway” he chided as he helped Oswald down the stairs.

Hadn't he been sitting for hours, which meant that his bad leg felt slightly uncooperative and on the verge of cramping, Oswald would have shaken Edward's help away “I need those books to be ready for Sunday”

“I offered you my help”

“You were planning a heist”

“And now I'm free” Edward said, almost insulted. He was the Riddler, for God's sake: multitasking certainly wasn't a problem for him and he had always liked numbers; they were comforting in their unequivocal certainty, arranged themselves in his head as easily as the words of a riddle would - apparently different kind of puzzles but with the same logic secretly interwoven in their backbones “Unless the real issue is that you don't trust me”

Oswald turned around at the bottom of the stairs, an incredulous expression painted in vivid colours on his face “Are you serious?” did Edward really think he would have let anyone in his home? In his life? _In his heart?_ “I've been trusting you with my life literally every single moment since we've gotten married”

“Did you think I would stab you in your sleep?”

“You could have shot me, poisoned me, bludgeoned me, slit my throat.. any moment, in a variety of ways, you could have killed me”

“Exactly!” He could have - easily. Oswald was supposed to understand feelings, he was the emotional one who could read people's hearts because he was so in tune with his own: he should have known what a mess Edward currently was, help him to untangle the rotten mess in his chest so that he could breathe out those words that were slowly choking him “Then why don't you trust me with your work?”

“That's the point I'm trying to make!” Oswald hissed in an attempt at keeping his voice low: it wouldn't do if their guests walked in on a fight “I do trust you with my work, I don't think you would screw me over”

“I don't understand”

Oswald sighed “We're fighting over nothing: we're saying the exact same thing, Ed” he gently squeezed the other's hand, trying to calm him down “I do trust you with my work, I just don't want to impose on you. If you really want to help and don't have anything to do in the morning, tomorrow you can help me”

It sounded a lot like the other man was just appeasing him but Edward would take any chance that was thrown his way to show Oswald that he really meant every single word he had said - to show himself worthy of Oswald's confidence, of his trust.  

_Of his love._

“Deal"

“Deal" Oswald echoed, nodding towards the ballroom “Let's go before someone gets any idea about stealing from us” it wasn't that he didn't have any faith in them but, well, they were _criminals_ : they all belonged either in Arkham or in Blackgate.

“Query and Echo would never” Edward chuckled, leading Oswald towards the party that still was in full swing despite the fact that they had been at it since midday; it was supposed to be just a celebratory lunch but once they had broken out some of Oswald's best bottles, no one had been in a mood to leave and they all seemed inclined to stay until the alcohol stopped flowing - which, considered how well-stocked the manor was, it wouldn't happen any time soon.

Not until someone got alcohol poisoning or Oswald scolded and stopped them before that.

“Pengy!”

“Ivy" Oswald greeted with a long-suffering sigh even as he let the younger woman wrap him in an embrace that smelled of hibiscus flowers.

“Ozzie!”

“Harley, you're killing me” Oswald complained, squirming in her hold and wrinkling his nose when a loud and sticky kiss landed on his cheek, the scent of artificial cherries filling his nose.

Ivy grinned and slipped one arm around Harley’s waist, squeezing the other woman closer to both Oswald and herself “Don't be such a grumpy bastard: we never see you anymore, you're always in your office” she pouted, one thing wiping away the lipstick Harley had left on his cheek “Promise me we're going shopping”

“I'm very busy..” Oswald tried to protest “Edward!”

“Your friends, you deal with them”

“I'm your husband!”

Edward only winked at him and walked up to a couch on which were sitting Query and Echo, shamelessly throwing himself between them like an overeager puppy in need of cuddles.

_Oh, Oswald hated him so much._

* * *

Oswald woke up to a pounding headache, his mouth tasting like a rabid rat had died in it - still better than the fetid and putrid water of Gotham's harbour, with which he was uncomfortably acquainted - and his eyes screaming murder at the light stabbing into his sensitive pupils whenever he tried to force his eyelids open.  

Sunlight in Gotham.

Wasn't that just _criminal_?

With a groan that sounded more like a noise a dying animal might have exhaled with its last breath, Oswald slumped back against the - floor?

Why wasn't he in bed?

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so hungover: he was honestly convinced that actual alcohol had replaced all the blood in his veins.

Wine could be just as red, afterall.  

Oswald rolled to the side, immediately regretted it, but at least he was now giving his back to the windows, blocking the sunlight with his own body, and could squint at the mess on his carpet: bottles of champagne and Italian wine seemed to be scattered everywhere, an overflowing ashtray stank of cigars and what looked like to be Ivy's “special” herbal cigarettes - that would explain why he was feeling like he had been ran over _twice_ \- and Edward was sleeping with his face plastered to a throw pillow that had been abducted from the couch, surrounded by Polaroids.  

His first instinct was to get in a fit about the fact that someone had gone snooping around and had found his father's camera.  

The second one obviously was to inspect the pictures, so that he could fill in the blank space in his head; he remembered everything up to the moment when Edward had handed him an oxycodone - his leg must really have been hurting him, to take that instead of ibuprofen like usual - and he had had the brilliant idea of tossing it back with an excellent glass of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin.

Not his brightest moment, clearly.  

Oswald sat up, riding the waves of nausea that roiled thickly in his stomach and apparently kept the same tempo of the throbbing in his temples: he needed a Bloody Mary, or that had been the cure to hangover Fish had taught him.

They had had their… misunderstandings but she definitely had been a wise woman and Oswald would have gladly followed her precious advice if only there had been someone sober around he could order to fix him one.  

Leaning over to grab the first picture almost was his undoing and Oswald could feel himself turn a rather unflattering shade of green, but he managed to swallow it down even if his stomach grumbled unhappily.  

He was too old for that shit.  

They _all_ were too old for that shit.  

Were there Rogues scattered around his home in varying states of misery?

Oswald mentally shook his head - not keen on doing it for real, just in case his body decided that it really wanted to throw up - and focused on the picture in his trembling fingers “What. The.  Fuck” he was pretty sure that Selina had never actually joined the party so, why had Query wrapped a whip around Echo’s wrists in his living room of all places? Kinky bitches.

Oswald grabbed another one with a mix of trepidation, dread and curiosity twisting his already tortured stomach and sighed in relief when it revealed itself to be a harmless picture of Jonathan Crane sleeping in a bathtub, hugging a bottle of cheap strawberry vodka that Oswald had never bought.

He really hoped that the rest of the pictures were as innocent too.  

Oswald stood up on trembling knees and started gathering them.  

Ivy and Harley kissing as they attempted to dance in the kitchen, heels kicked to the side. 

Edward frowning at a Jenga game, clearly meditating about his next move.  

Edward again, face planted on the table and the wooden blocks surrounding him.

Himself caught on camera drawing an ace of spades out of his sleeve - he must have been really out of it to be so clumsy at cheating at cards.  

Query and Echo, indecent again and in his bedroom to boot - but at least he now knew why he wasn't sleeping in his own bed.

John and Edward studying a beaker full of something he sincerely hoped hadn't exploded.

“Holy…”

At the sight of the last picture, Oswald's eyes widened in shock: that couldn't have happened, absolutely not - especially not where anyone could see them and snap a picture to document the act.

He brought it closer to blue bloodshot eyes that took in every little detail, cheeks flushed in shame and arousal and rage.

Edward's head thrown back in utter abandon, curls plastered to his forehead.  

His glasses dangling from one hand.  

Long fingers buried in his dishevelled hair.  

His black trousers and shimmering green boxers pooled around his ankles.  

And himself, knelt in front of him, face buried between Edward's legs in a way that didn't leave any doubts about what he was doing, cheeks hollowed and shining with tears.  

He had given Edward a blowjob.  

A _blowjob._

Oswald had never given one in his whole life. 

What the hell had Ivy made him smoke?!

He needed to make the picture disappear; even if anyone remembered _that_ happening, without proof Oswald could shamelessly accuse them of having hallucinated it and kick them out of the house, banning parties for a while.  

Yes, that definitely was a plan.

A _good_ plan.

An _excellent_ one even.  

Unless Edward had any recollections of what had happened.  

Oswald looked down at the other man, snoring and drooling over the pillow and his heart seemed to squeeze in his chest: he loved him so much, it was ridiculous and unhealthy to the point that he had half-mind of checking himself into Arkham because he clearly needed help and lots of it.  

Oswald stuck the incriminated picture in the back pocket of his trousers and scattered the others again on the floor, to avoid seeming suspicious, and started making the rounds of the house to find the other Rogues.  

He wasn't thrilled to find John throwing up in the first guest bathroom in which he had apparently spent the night “You okay?”

The only answer he received was a particularly nasty gagging sound.

“Great. Great.  Spare toothbrush in the cupboard under the sink” he informed the other man before slamming the door shut.  

At least, when he limped into the kitchen, Ivy and Harley were awake “The next time you bring pot into my house and persuade me to smoke it, I'm slaughtering you”

“Good morning to you too” Harley piped up, grinning from behind her cup of tea.  

“It wasn't pot, by the way”

“I don't care about what kind of hallucinogenic plant you made me smoke!”

Ivy arched an eyebrow “For someone hangover, you sure know your big words" she teased, delighting in her friend's foul mood: Oswald always was at his funniest when he was angry “Besides, you wanted to smoke - I didn't make you do it”

“Details” Oswald grumbled “Make breakfast for everyone, will you? I still need to find Query and Echo”

“They're in your bed”

“Naked”

Oswald wasn't surprised “Make me a Bloody Mary too" he added before disappearing out of the kitchen and bracing himself in order to climb up the stairs; he marched towards his bedroom with determination and threw the door open, face twisted when he took in the two women wrapped up in his sheets.

He’d have to burn them.  

Oswald went to his closet, tiptoeing around two pairs of thongs abandoned on the floor, and retrieved two robes that he tossed on the bed “Wake up, you bitches!”

“Fuck you, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot” Echo mumbled, worming her head under a pillow.  

“Yeah. Only Edward can call us bitches” Query echoed.

“You've had sex in our marital bed: you can bet I'm calling you bitches” Oswald pointed out, cruelly tugging the curtains to the side so that sunlight would punish them with well-deserved pain “Did you use my vibrator?!” He shouted when his eyes fell on a familiar egg-shaped toy laying on the bedside table.  

“Relax, we put a condom on it”

“It's still unsanitary!” Oswald tugged the covers off of them, uncaring that they were naked and delighting in their shrieks of displeasure; he hardly was interested in the female body and growing up those few female friends he had had, hadn't been bothered about getting undressed in front of him - he supposed that they had felt safe, knowing that he was gay “Get. Up!”

Query sat up, scowling at the other man “You really are a bitch”

“Takes one to recognise another” Oswald deadpanned, one eyebrow arched at her “Breakfast in five minutes” he stated before walking out of the room, leaving the door wide open.  

_God, his head was pounding._

* * *

Almost a month had passed from the night of the party and Oswald was as frosty as ever; in the beginning, Edward had thought that the other man had been pissed about the fact that he had a considerable chunk of the Rogues drunk and high in his home but now he was starting to suspect that something had happened during the party: Oswald's mood hadn't improved at all and the distance between them seemed to grow - a gaping hole that became larger and larger with every passing day.  

It physically hurt Edward.  

He observed as his husband pushed his food around the plate, seemingly not that keen on eating breakfast “Are you feeling unwell?” he asked timidly, afraid of upsetting Oswald; the other's temper had been short as of late, ready to ignite.  

Oswald shrugged “I'm fine”

“You don't sound fine"

“Well, I told you I am!”

At the shout, Edward shrunk against the back of his chair and looked down at his own plate, contemplating what was left of his scrambled eggs; he wasn't so hungry that he would stay around to let Oswald scream at him without reason “I'll see you later” he tossed his napkin on the table and got up, a frown etched on his forehead.

Oswald didn't stop him, nor apologised.  

Edward really didn't understand what he could have done wrong: he didn't remember much of the party, everything was hazy and confused - whole chunks of that evening were missing and no matter how hard he tried to retrieve those memories, they were unreachable behind a veil of alcoholic vapours and toxic smoke.  

He threw himself on his bed, sighing loudly, and closed his eyes: he was so tired of fighting with Oswald, it was even worse than when they had been ignoring each other - at least the loneliness had been companionable.

Now it felt like they were constantly fighting, pitted one against the other over something that he couldn't even remember taking place. 

With a heavy sigh, Edward reached down and tugged his pyjamas pants out of the way: he needed something - anything - to ease the nervous tension in his body.

It helped that he had some lovely images swirling in his head of Oswald on his knees for him: his warm and slick mouth wrapped around his cock; his teeth clumsily grazing along the sensitive flesh from time to time; his silky hair wrapped around his fingers as Oswald slowly bobbed his head up and down his erection, attempting to follow the undulating rhythm of his hips.  

He had never been so grateful for his vivid imagination.  

Edward moaned and closed his fingers around his cock, a little noise of discomfort leaving his lips at the dryness that didn't resemble at all the moist heat he was picturing; he didn't have any lube, though, and he wasn't going to get up now and grab some from Oswald's bedside table: he'd just have to wait until his cockhead started drooling with precum, smoothing the friction of his strokes.  

He whimpered when he reached down with his other hand to tug at his balls, rolling them in his palm and squeezing lightly like Oswald might do if he was there; from his fantasy, he got a feeling that the other man was rather inexperienced and that hesitancy sent a frisson of excitement down his spine: he never thought he had a thing for virgins but, apparently, the idea of an eager to learn Oswald excited him.  

Edward could imagine Oswald's sea-green eyes looking up at him with naked desire so clearly, tongue hesitantly delivering kitten and exploring licks around the head of his cock.  

It almost seemed more like a memory, rather than a fantasy.  

_A memory._

Edward came with a hoarse cry, eyes blinking up at the ceiling in shock at his realisation even as his body shivered in the aftershocks, hand absentmindedly milking his orgasm - slow and languorous, while his chest rose and fell at the fast paced rhythm of his breathing pattern.

He was _remembering_ Oswald giving him a blowjob: it had happened for real, that accuracy of detail couldn't be just the product of his mind.

It must have happened during the party.  

That was the only option, really.  

But what did Oswald's hostile attitude mean?

Did the other man regret it?

Had he forced himself upon the other man and didn't remember?

Edward pushed the thought away, dread constricting his chest until breathing became difficult and he felt like he was going to pass out; he wouldn't hurt Oswald like that, even if inebriated right? He was a monster, true, but not that kind of monster.  

Tears welled into his eyes and panic seized his heart and guts, black spots appeared in his vision as he hastily cleaned himself up and rushed out of his bedroom, stumbling down the stairs - almost breaking his neck in his rush to get to Oswald: they needed to talk, he couldn't stand not knowing.  

Couldn't stand the idea that he had taken advantage of the other man - the man he loved.  

_He wasn't the kind of monster his father had been._

* * *

Oswald couldn't tell exactly how long Edward had been crying in his arms; the man had rushed into his studio already sobbing, spine shaking under the intensity of his gasps with which he almost choked himself.

It was true that he had been a little harsh at breakfast - he had been planning on apologising at lunch, guilt twisting his stomach - but he hadn't thought that Edward would react so badly: the other man was used to his short and fiery temper, knew that he needed to leave him to cool down when he lost it in such a way.  

Which didn't make his behaviour right but still, the other's reaction puzzled Oswald - especially since they hadn't even fought about something serious.  

Oswald ran his hand in circles over Edward's quivering back and let the other man ruin the collar of his shirt with the salt of his tears, humming a little under his breath in the hope that it would help to soothe him.

Maybe he had received a call bearing bad news?

Maybe he had had a nightmare?

Oswald checked his watch: it had been just under an hour since their tense exchange at the table, could the other man have fallen asleep in such a little time? Edward wasn't really known for having an healthy sleeping pattern, he was an insomniac that more often than not went without sleep for _days._

Tentatively, Oswald slid his fingers in Edward's hair “If you told me what's wrong, maybe I can help” he offered in a gentle voice, trying to coax Edward in his confidence; seeing the other man hurt in such a way was painful, it set Oswald on edge with the need to destroy whoever had dared to do that to the man he loved.  

Edward just sobbed harder and Oswald resigned himself to waiting it out; he held Edward close, humming and gently rocking him while he read over his shoulders some documents that he really needed to get ready by that evening.  

“D-do you l-love me?”

“What?”

Edward looked up at Oswald, rubbing one cheek dry over the lapel of his husband’s jacket “Do you love me?”

That was the moment when he admitted to his pesky feelings and Edward told him that he didn't love him back, wasn't it?

The moment when the other man would ask him for a divorce, tired with his pining.  

Oswald swallowed and closed his eyes, steeling himself “I do" he murmured, voice pained “I love you, Ed"

_I love you, Ed._

“I love you too”

“What?” Oswald asked again, despite the risk of sounding like an idiot “You love me?”

Edward nodded, sniffling “I really do" he admitted.

“Why are you crying, then?” He was momentarily too worried with the other's emotional state to rejoice in the fact that apparently - impossibly, improbably, amazingly - the other man _loved_ him.

“Did I force myself on you during the party?”

“What?”

Three was the perfect number, wasn't it?

“Did I rape you?”

Oswald shook his head and took Edward's face between his hands, thumb brushing the tears away from his cheekbones “No.  Where did you get that idea from?”

“I have…”

“Breathe” Oswald leaned in and kissed the other's forehead “Breathe, gather your words”

Edward nodded, leaning into the touch of the other's lips - a benediction being bestowed upon him by his personal god “I have these memories about you… uh.. blowing me.  And.. after the party you were so cold with me?” he looked at Oswald with pleading eyes, asking for an explanation.

“Oh, Ed” he hadn't meant to hurt the other man that way; Edward hadn't said a word about the accident so, Oswald had presumed that the man didn't remember a thing: he certainly hadn't been planning on making Edward think that such an horrible thing had happened “I was distant because I was… ashamed” he shrugged and leaned over to open a drawer of his desk, retrieving the Polaroid “I was relieved when nobody seemed to remember this”

“You… blew me in front of our friends?”

“Apparently?”

A small chuckle left Edward's lips, startled and relieved “That's…”

“Slutty?”

“I was going to say kinky” Edward retorted “What the hell did Ivy roll in the joints?”

“That's a question I've been asking myself for weeks” Oswald admitted with a laugh, hugging the other close to his chest, lips naturally finding his temple to kiss it “You really said that you love me, right? I didn't imagine it”

“You didn't” Edward reassured “No divorce. Please?”

“No divorce” Oswald confirmed, breathless and elated.  

_Happily ever after wasn't a legend, after all._

**Author's Note:**

> I hate everything about this fic, except Query and Echo *shrugs*


End file.
